


Just Once

by shinesurge



Category: Kidd Commander (Webcomic)
Genre: Cuddles, Gen, social anxiety ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15687762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinesurge/pseuds/shinesurge
Summary: Major spoilers for the Wretched Analog arc.Agatha is still adjusting to life on the Noon, Ulrich is still adjusting to life in general. Maybe they can help each other out.





	Just Once

**Author's Note:**

> Someone in the discord brought up Agatha/Ulrich as a pairing, which, both of them being asexual and Ulrich being touch-averse, seemed like a wonderful opportunity for some nice safe fluff. The pairing thing aside, most of the time the whole crew acts like they're in love with each other anyway, so this still counts as Mostly Canon imo.

It had taken Agatha time to get used to a lot of things about Lucky Noon, but the biggest hurdle by far was the wood. _Everything_ was made of wood, everything on the goddamn ship, and while she was no engineer Agatha was pretty sure it wasn't even the kind you're _supposed_ to use for ships or houses or whatever. Most of the furniture was at least sanded to a smoother finish, but the floors and the walls and the rails were coarse and creaky, the rope in the nets connecting different levels worn to a scratchy fray from their abuse. Agatha didn't worry about splinters, but she _did_ worry about being an object that weighed easily as much as four grown men being supported by a few scraps of popsicle stick held together, quite literally, with a prayer. Her first days were spent fully expecting every other step to send her through the floor, making up excuses not to use furniture, and completely avoiding the rickety outer structures like the ladders and the engine room balcony. Although it was tempting she was especially wary of what Phineas called the crow's nest, which looked more like an unfortunate lifeboat on stilts, crooked dizzyingly out over thin air twenty feet above the third floor deck. Sitting out a rainstorm (or anything The Sprawl's bizarre weather patterns decided to storm at them that day) up there under the tattered beach umbrella seemed like an excellent way to spend the afternoon, but despite Noon's cheerful reassurances she just...not yet. Soon, she told herself. But not now.

There _was_ _**one**_ place Agatha could go to forget about the deathtrap she found herself stuck in. The lighthouse that jutted up next to the Noon's smokestack was made of steel and glass, painted with glossy artificial colors and outfitted with a real light bulb, not the magic-y sort of biolights that appeared in much of the ship. Agatha's feelings about Decodenn were certainly conflicted, but its sterile flair was the only thing like a home she'd ever known. The natural warmth pervading the ship was Phineas through and through, her smile and shine tangible between every plank and fiber, but like her hesitation to place her trust in Noon rather than gravity Agatha found herself unable to lean into the embrace completely. It was all so new, this business of being cared for. She wanted it, she was sure, she _wanted_ Phineas to smile at her, but that didn't make the full force of her attention any less overwhelming. The cold rattle of metal stairs under her feet, the protest of the heavy door opening to the light room; these were things she could deal with. 

A downpour had started up in the late morning and kept right on hammering at the little ship into the afternoon. Phineas, still recuperating from their run-in with some sundogs the previous night and lulled by the rainy mood teasing in through the curtain in the doorway, fell asleep on the living room couch after breakfast and had been comatose for a couple hours. Agatha was secretly grateful; the rain would be much more interesting to take in from under the glass of the lighthouse. 

She shoved through the door to the lighthouse's lantern room, somehow worn and stuck-y even though the ship was only weeks old, and was startled to find Ulrich already there, curled up in a blanket on a floor cushion with a stack of books nearby, one laid out in front of him. He didn't look up at the door slamming open.

"Hello," he mumbled amicably. Agatha realized he had heard her heavy footsteps on the stairs. She fidgeted in the open door, feeling guilty and trying to think of how to leave without being horribly rude. 

"It's alright, stay." Ulrich continued before she could speak. He turned a page. "You really _are_ going to have to get used to sharing space with us," he turned up towards her; he was wearing his reading glasses and one lens caught the light, a low moon looking back at her. He wrinkled his nose only enough for her to notice. "I had to, I understand. Trust me, the sooner you start on it, the better." 

He had a point. Agatha also felt that familiar tug of arrogance again, the one that snuck up on her and made her sneer and roll her eyes at organics before she could feel guilty for it. She lived here too, now, didn't she? Why shouldn't she go where she wanted. She heaved the door back into place.

Like its other amenities, the Noon's lantern room wasn't quite the same as others. It more closely resembled a round greenhouse, all glass and iron bars hemming in an enormous lamp on a raised pedestal, its revolutions just sweeping the top of Agatha's head as she crossed to where Ulrich had returned to his reading. She had a brief moment of uncertainty about what to do with herself, still feeling too intrusive to get comfortable, but Ulrich seemed to think of this himself and glanced up to smile at her gently. He reached out of the thick white blanket around his shoulders and patted the ground near him. 

"Please, sit." Agatha did, settling a couple feet away; a Friendly Distance, she judged. Another minute social crisis successfully navigated. It was quiet for a moment, relatively. The rain against the glass was a dull roar, gumball-sized drops materializing rapidly out of the swirling grey cloud mass outside before melting down the sides of the windows. The residue it left on impact was iridescent, and the light filtering in through the water made little rainbows in the shadows cast about the room. Agatha was lost to looking for a bit, then she began again to feel obligated to her companion and snuck a glance back at Ulrich. 

She recognized Ulrich's books; he had bought them in a shop in the town they'd visited last week. Most of them had English titles, but the one he was looking at now was something else. Agatha dug in her memory to remember what it was she had heard Ulrich mumbling to himself when he thought no one was listening.

"Deutsch." She said, sort of lilting the unconscious observation into an awkward question at the last minute. Ulrich sighed through his nose good-naturedly, still reading. 

"Yes," he replied, politely leading them past her awkwardness. "I don't get the chance to practice often. I have to make the time for it." 

"Seems like a lot of work. It must be important to you." 

"It is, yes." Her sharp eyes saw him tighten the blanket imperceptibly, the pastel outlines from the rain sending strange shadows over his already unhealthy skin. Not that she could call him out for that. She realized he was only wearing a t-shirt rather than his usual layers, which seemed odd. If he was cold enough for such a heavy blanket why not put on more clothes first?

Ulrich was still speaking softly, his words fuzzy at the edges of Agatha's mind the way they got sometimes, his Silver creeping in without his notice. She was only half listening, her observation having triggered some fragment memory that she was sure would be important right now if she could recall it. 

"Do you speak any other languages?" he asked companionably, looking up at her with a terribly charming smile her facial recognition told her instantly was only a practiced reflex. This set off a chain of calculations in Agatha's brain and placed an answer neatly in her hands.

"You're touch starved." she replied. His smile froze on his face.

"Hmm?" 

"You come up here where no one will bother you and have Noon conjure up this heavy thing." She could almost see gears working behind his expression, like his clockwork had run down. Ulrich, apparently deciding he'd been found out, slumped forward and dropped his polite, if detached, demeanor in exchange for defensiveness.

"Well _you_ come up here to get away from Phineas'...everything, so you can't rat _me_ out without giving up _your_ hiding spot too." He was slouched over, almost glaring over the rims of his glasses. In the instant he'd changed his posture he seemed to age several years, his big eyes retreating into their sockets against the darkened skin around. Convincing, but Agatha's algorithms informed her he was more nervous than actually angry, probably afraid she would tell their commander and start a fresh round of awkwardness for all of them. That wasn't what she wanted though, it _had_ seemed like an accusation hadn't it? She tried again, ignoring his attempt to threaten her. 

"I'm not gonna rat you out, relax." she was secretly grateful for this change in banter; aggression was much more straightforward than the silly games Ulrich liked to play so much. "I've just dealt with it before, I can help you."

He regarded her suspiciously. Agatha felt sympathy more than anything for this little human who wouldn't even let himself be helped by his crewmates, new or not. She had seen Phineas attempt these sorts of things with him before, like trying to hold a struggling animal, and Agatha knew with certainty he would have fled the room by now if he was speaking with Phineas instead. His remaining here at all was encouraging enough for her to press on. 

"I sort of...I was with some humankinds, before. Physically. A lot of them. You organics get lonely easily, you need other ones around or you don't work right." She paused for a beat, taking a few extra cycles to distill an immense amount of information into something easy to say. "You need to be touched." 

"Are you telling me I am _miserable_ because need to get _laid?_ " Ulrich's words dripped with derision. Agatha shrugged, unaffected.

"It probably wouldn't _hurt_ -" Ulrich stiffened, about to rebuke the statement, but she plowed ahead. "-but no." She patted her own face. "Hugs and hand-holding and stuff. Humans need to be held." 

Ulrich rolled his eyes, then averted his gaze out the window. "I know," he admitted quietly. 

Agatha furrowed her brow. 

"Why the secrecy, though? Phineas is all over us all the time anyway, all you'd have to do is ask." At breakfast that morning, covered as she was in bruises and bandages, the first thing Phineas had done was sling her arm around Agatha's shoulders as she leaned across her to reach an apple. Ulrich had been there too, and she-

Phineas hadn't touched him at all. Ulrich seemed to see the realization hit her. He shrugged. 

"I can't...touch is difficult. For me." he drew his blanket around himself again. "It usually makes me nervous. I explained it to her and she tries to be considerate, it's getting easier but it still..." Agatha nods thoughtfully.

"I've seen a few cases like that," she winced internally, realizing too late that it could be mistaken for a dismissive statement. Ulrich didn’t seem to care. "But I'm helpful with it, sometimes." He eyed her.

"You're _not_ suggesting-" 

"I don't wanna fuck you Weiss." Now _she_ rolled her eyes and Ulrich giggled softly to save face, maybe realizing now how defensive he'd gotten at the idea of...being laughed at? Losing his respite? Whatever, Agatha probably wouldn't be able to get it out of him anyway. She held up one hand instead. "But you might feel better if I hold your hand for a minute." 

Ulrich shifted uncomfortably, the rain's pattern rippling over the fabric he was buried in.

"You can say no if you don't like it."

"This is weird, is it not?" Again, Agatha reminded herself patiently that if he hadn't left at this point he wasn't going to, but she marveled at how hard this guy made things for himself. Humans were so stupid.

"I've done weirder things for people I like less than you." The statement was deadpan and wasn't meant as a compliment exactly, but Ulrich seemed to mull it over appreciatively. He shrugged again.

"Me too, I suppose." 

She reached out tentatively, and when he didn't quite flinch away she laid her hand over his, still caught in the blanket. A blush spread up from his shirt collar and he cleared his throat, then gently turned his hand to hold hers, stiffly, not lacing their fingers. 

"You're not..." He started. Agatha told her face to soften.

"It's something about the metal I think." she finished. "I'm alive _enough_ , and warm, but whatever thing it is about human touches that bothers your brain isn't there." Ulrich lowered their hands to the floor. "I'm not quite the same, but it's better than nothing huh?" 

"And you don't mind?" he asked sheepishly. 

"I just came up here to watch the rain. We can-" Ulrich yelped as an enormous saucer chair grew up from the floor under them, scooping them up and piling them in its plush center. He huffed. 

"I'm never getting used to that." He was sprawled out over Agatha's chest now, and was too busy complaining about Noon to notice that he should be feeling awkward about it. Agatha shifted so she could carefully stack the books he wasn't using on the floor. This broke the spell and sent Ulrich to his feet, his glasses skewed.

"-! Sorry-" Agatha just handed him the Deutsch book he had been reading and settled herself back in the chair. She tugged at the hem of his shirt.

"Come on, relax for two seconds would you? The rest of us are." Very slowly, Ulrich let himself be pulled down, and after some adjusting his back was pressed against Agatha's chest, the heavy blanket spread out over both of them and draping over the edges of the chair. He set his book out in front of him and pretended to read while Agatha smoothly carded her fingers through his hair, which lasted about ten seconds before his head dropped bonelessly back against her shoulder. 

"Better?" she asked. He smiled, his eyes closed. He traced his fingertips over the unread pages in his lap.

"I am not getting a lot of studying done this way." 

"You'll live." 


End file.
